


The Not-So-Subtle Machinations of Draco Malfoy, Forced Absentee Father

by khryseraph



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:46:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26510857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khryseraph/pseuds/khryseraph
Summary: Draco Malfoy finally gets the chance he's been wanting for ten years - a chance to reunite with his son. He becomes the new Potions Master at Hogwarts and finds a few old faces (and one especially handsome one) amongst the staff. What will he do now?NOTE: This story is ENTIRELY, HEAVILY based upon/inspired by Sprout2012's "New Beginnings," which is an absolutely fantastic fic that I simply want to put my own spin on.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Kudos: 20





	1. The Ordinary World of Draco Malfoy

**Author's Note:**

> Some points to make.  
> 1\. I am American, sorry to say. This will therefore sound different than a story based in Europe probably should. I apologize.  
> 2\. I want to reiterate that this story's base concept and general flow of plot points are not original, and are inspired by Sprout 2012's "New Beginnings." I highly suggest you read their work.  
> 3\. I love comments. I'm practically addicted to them. So fire away!  
> 4\. Thanks for reading :P

Draco's eyes fluttered open, the harsh morning sunlight practically blinding him. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, scowling at the light before his eyes flew open. Today was the day.

He sprang out of bed, rushing through his exhaustive morning routine. He was expecting a letter, and he couldn't wait to see what it said.

There was no way she could reject him, right? He knew - better than anyone - what his family did and what his name meant to the wizarding world. But he also knew that Minerva would be hard-pressed to find someone with qualifications better than him.

He flew through a Potions Mastery program in France faster than anyone had previously, discovering a new use for dragon's blood for his thesis that had made him well-respected amongst the potions-brewing community. He held muggle degrees in Chemistry and Education, ones that he had worked particularly hard to get. Once a reporter had found out, those degrees had simultaneously made him a laughingstock amongst his old pureblood community and respectable amongst the half-blood and muggleborn members of society. He doubted they would ever look past his name when judging him, but this accomplishment was not expected of a former Death Eater, and he had shocked the wizarding world thoroughly.

With all that under his belt, there's no way Minerva could turn him down for the position of Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, right? 

He hoped he was right. 

Scorpius would be 13 now, entering his third year at the illustrious school. 

Draco hadn’t seen his beloved son in exactly 10 years now, thanks to his bitch of an ex-wife. She had consistently sent back every single letter and postage Draco ever sent to Scorpius, and Draco never heard a thing from his son. 

With the letter hopefully telling him what he wanted to hear, that would end today. It was a week before the start of term at Hogwarts, and he would be informed of the decision today.

The passing of Horace Slughorn had not been unexpected. It was well known that the man gorged himself on the finest foods and wines available. However, that didn’t stop many famous members of his renowned “Slug Club” from expressing their surprise and sorrow at his passing during this summer. 

The moment the advert had been placed in the Daily Prophet, Draco had sent an owl to inform Minerva McGonagall of his intentions to apply for the position and his qualifications. She had sent a response back letting him know the time for the interview, which had been over a month ago. 

He had put on his cold Malfoy demeanor for the interview, but as the questions continued he could feel his facade slipping more and more as his excitement grew at the prospect of being with his son again, and at the prospect of teaching the next generations of potioneers.

Minerva ended the interview with a small smile and thanked him for his time.

He was eating a small meal of eggs and toast when there was a _tap-tap-tapping_ on his window.

He practically jumped out of his seat as he threw it open for the large owl, and the letter it held in its beak. He tore it open, anxious and excited to read the words within.

_Mister Malfoy,_

_I am pleased to inform you that you have been accepted as the new Potions Master for Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. You will arrive by train two days before the term begins to set up your classroom and get established in your quarters._

_By far you were our most impressive candidate, and I personally am thrilled to see what you do with this opportunity._

_Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Headmistress_


	2. Draco's Call to Adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco enters the school for the first time in years and ponders what it will be like in his new life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a feeling that I'll make these chapters relatively short. I think it'll help me feel like I'm accomplishing more than I am XD
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy it!

Draco took his first step off the  _ Hogwarts Express _ for the first time in years, smelling the fresh pine breeze gleefully. 

He had stuck to a car in the back of the train with his luggage so as to avoid any warranted stares from other professors as he made his way towards the school, his shrunken luggage tucked away in his pocket. 

He walked swiftly up to the castle, doing his damndest to avoid anyone else. He could make the awkward introductions at the dinner tonight rather than deal with it on the walk.

He strode up to the castle, pleased to see Minerva waiting at the front entrance. She smiled warmly as she greeted him. 

“Professor Malfoy. I am so pleased we could bring you on for the school year.” He nodded curtly, mask taking over.

“Yes, Headmistress, I am very thankful for this opportunity.”

“Call me Minerva when the children are not around, please. And I do hope that my springing the role of Head of Slytherin House on you is not unwelcome.” He shook his head.

“Not at all, though I must ask if there aren’t any other Slytherin members on your staff?”

“None, I am afraid. Do not fret, though. They will warm up to you in time.” He nodded again and, hearing more footsteps coming up from behind him, he thanked her again and strode towards the castle.

Crossing the threshold was surprisingly uneventful. He had built it up in his head after all these years, not having done it since the war. Everything had built up its old glamour of age, even in the relatively short time he has been gone. 

He went straight to his quarters in the dungeons to begin unpacking. It was an easy affair, simply unshrinking his luggage and putting away his clothes, personal care products, and a small library of potions books. Last in the trunk was a not-so-small collection of letters and packages that he had tried to get to Scorpius over the years. Perhaps he would finally get a chance to deliver them. 

The only downside from being able to quickly unpack his supplies was that he was now left with quite a few hours to think before the welcoming party for staff would begin. He let his mind dwell amongst some darker things, feeling anxiety at his soon-to-be meeting with his son. 

He thought about how the parents would feel about him teaching their children - hell, how the students would feel!

He knew that the best chance he had of bringing them over was simply to be the best teacher he could be, but he knew this would be no easy task.

Then his mind drifted to his fellow staff and his son. He doubted any of them would be welcoming, and held no doubts that they would be quick to scorn and isolate him. 

He wasn’t sure how to bring them over to his side. 

Before long, his alarm spell was going off and he jerked out of his dark reverie in order to prepare for the dinner.

_ Well, here it goes. _


	3. Meeting the Staff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco meets the new staff, as well as a couple of old acquaintances.

All-in-all, the welcome wasn’t as horrible as Draco had expected it to be. Quite a few of his old professors were still there, and while he definitely got some upturned noses and cold shoulders, a couple were relatively amicable towards him.

Neville Longbottom, now a decade-long Herbology professor, was looking relatively fit. Evidently spending all your day in a greenhouse worked wonders for your body. 

Draco tried not to get too distracted by him. Fantasizing about old school rivals was not what he was here to do.

That thought actually did a good job at holding him at bay, until _he_ showed up. 

_Harry._

_Fucking._

_Potter._

_No fucking way._

Draco’s jaw would have dropped had his elegance training not stepped in to save face.

How had he missed this? That _Harry fucking Potter_ was a professor here?!

_Good lord, I am so screwed._

The man looked amazing. His red, long-sleeved shirt and black, denim jeans fit him tightly. His modernized glasses replaced the clunky, round ones he had all those years ago. It looks like he had finally managed to tame his hair, having it looking somewhat… nice. 

It was startling. 

Harry made his way slowly about the room, greeting each fellow professor in turn. When his emerald green eyes landed on Draco, he wasn’t sure he understood the emotion that filled them. Shock, maybe? 

It didn’t last long, however. Potter made his way over to Draco and stuck out his hand, a small smile gracing his handsome face.

“Malfoy - er, Professor Malfoy, I suppose I should say! I had no idea you would be taking over the role of Potions Master!” His hand hung there, a dare in Draco’s face.

Draco was never one to pass up a dare.

He shook the hand, which was calloused and rough.

_I wonder how that would feel on my…_

_Nope. Can’t go there._

“Yes, Professor Potter. Neither I, you. It is a… pleasant surprise to see you here. What do you teach?”

Harry snorted, a curious look on his face. “Don’t you know? Defense Against the Dark Arts.” 

Draco sighed, kicking himself on the inside. Of course that’s what _Potter_ taught. 

“Ah, of course. I should have... remembered.”

It was especially awkward now. 

“Heh, yep. I’m sure Scorpius gripes about all the homework I’ve given him, no?”

The corners of Draco’s mouth turned down. That hurt, being reminded of such a trivial thing amongst thousands that he’d missed out on.

“Oh, I’m… sure. Well, I really should go sit down. It was… good to see you, professor.”

Harry smiled a little oddly.

“Erm… You as well, Professor Malfoy.”

Draco was the first to sit at the staff table, besides the aging Flitwick. He sat at the far end of it, hoping nobody would sit next to him. The conversation with Potter had turned his mood sour, and he realized this would only be one time of many that this sort of thing would happen.

_Maybe that’ll change. Maybe I can change it all._


	4. Draco's New Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco makes an unexpected acquaintance at his first meal, with a promise for further interaction.

Of course, Harry Potter made it a point to sit next to Draco with a smile.

Draco simply stared back, which was definitely toned down from the glare or sneer he was raised to return to such an act.

Minerva had a truly rousing welcome speech to welcome the new hire, and even though most of the table looked less-than-enthused about having him among their midst, nobody tried to outright hex him, which was a good sign. Perhaps the  _ Golden Boy _ was  _ protecting _ him, or… something.

The food that appeared was marvelous. It was leagues better than what he had eaten for his first six years here, and that was saying something. He could only stare at amazement at the salmon that appeared before him, and was even more amazed when it melted in his mouth.

“You know, you should come to expect food of this caliber year-round. While there’s too many students to do anything personalized for them, the house-elves are happy to craft something better for the staff.”

Draco gave a side look at Potter as he cut another piece of salmon with his fork before bringing it up to his mouth, taking his time to chew and swallow before responding.

“Well, that is good to know, Potter. If I had to eat the same fare as I did when we first came here, I’m not sure my waistline could handle it, what with my decided lack of exercise.” 

Potter chuckled at that. It was a deep, soothing sound. Draco felt some anxieties he still held about sitting at this table melt away.

“Come now, Professor Malfoy. Surely you of all people should know the importance of mind  _ and body _ when it comes to teaching, what with your Muggle degree in it.”

Draco blushed slightly. He was rarely in company that would bring his degrees up. Mother certainly never did. 

Despite how supportive she always was about the new direction Draco was making with his life, she still held old, inbred prejudices that would most likely never go away. She still supported him, though, at least with surface-level words if nothing else.

“Well, what of it? Would you have me work out at Hogwarts’  _ renowned _ gym?” 

Harry chuckled again.

“Fair point, fair point. I always did wonder how the whole lot of us managed to stay so skinny despite the endless feasts every night.”

Draco waved a couple fingers.

“Magic.”

Harry chuckled a third time. Draco could get used to the sound.

“Tell you what,” Harry began.

“What, pray tell?” 

“Why don’t we jog in the mornings? Just a quick run around the castle, something to work off any potential blubber we might build up due to delicious, home-cooked meals every morning, afternoon, and night?”

Draco considered Potter carefully, trying to see if the man was having him on.

“And why would you want to jog with me?”

Harry shrugged. 

“Well, it’s usually up to a senior member of the staff to take a new professor under their wing, help them with getting adjusted to life here at Hogwarts. Since nobody else seems to be jumping at the chance and you don’t seem particularly keen on working with them either, I might be a happy middle ground. Two old school rivals who can surpass the odds to become friends.”

Now it was Draco’s turn to chuckle. 

“Friends, hm? And why would I want to be your friend? Even better question,  _ why would you want to be mine? _ ” 

Draco had narrowed his eyes at Harry, whose cheeks tinged pink at the direct question. So much for Gryffindor, hm?

“W- well, I’d like to demonstrate to the other teachers that just because you’re the only Slytherin on staff, that doesn’t mean they can’t befriend you.”

Draco kept his narrowed eyes focused on Harry.

“Please, Potter. I think we both know their distrust of me extends to reasons far beyond me simply being a  _ Slytherin _ .”

He scratched at his left wrist. The remains of the Mark itched whenever the subject was brought up.

Harry seemed to steel himself.

“Regardless, I could use the exercise, and so could you. I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early.”

With that, Harry put one last bite of Treacle Tart into his mouth, he stood up, and he left. He shot a furtive glance at Draco before he left the Great Hall.

Draco’s eyes followed Potter’s… figure. His form. It was certainly well developed.

And his ass wasn’t too bad either.

_ Well. That should be interesting _ .


	5. The Morning Jog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Harry go on a jog together, and make some plans for the day.

When Potter said “bright and early,” he quite literally meant the _early_ , and not so much the _bright_. The sun was just peeking out from behind the clouds when there was a knock on Draco’s door.

Half of Draco’s hair was pressed flat into the side of his head, the other half sticking up at odd angles. His eyes had dark crescents under them, as he’d hardly gotten any sleep due to worries about seeing his son for the first time in a decade.

The door creaked open - _I’ll have to fix that_ \- to reveal a smiling Harry Potter in a tank top, shorts, and running shoes. _And_ _by Merlin did he look stunning_.

It was clearly a chilly morning, as Potter’s nipples were rock hard underneath his tank top. His muscles were well-defined, not something Draco would ever thought would be associated with Potter. His legs were sturdy and his face smiling.

“Morning, Draco!”

Draco scowled. He grabbed his wand and cast a _tempus_ charm. 

“It is hardly past 6am. What the hell are you doing at my door?”

Potter looked a little put-out. 

“We’re going jogging, remember? Get your clothes on, let’s go!”

That was when Draco realized he was in nothing but a pair of boxer-briefs. He slammed the door shut, face glowing. 

_Oh bloody hell._

… 

The jog itself wasn’t too bad. Draco _certainly_ wasn’t gasping for air by the end of it as he and Potter made their way back to his quarters in the dungeons. Certainly not. 

The scenery of Hogwarts’ grounds was quite gorgeous, though. Birds fluttered through the air, chirps able to be heard over the panting of the two men as they made their way past the lake.

When they returned to the quarters, sweat streaking in rivulets down Draco’s face, Potter gave him another smile. 

“I’m glad we did that, Draco. What’s your plans for today?”

Draco looked at Potter curiously. Why did the man insist on using his first name?

“Well, _Harry_ , I need to set up the Potions classroom. Check the class cauldrons, the burners, the supply room. I was also planning on grabbing some breakfast after this jog. I am quite hungry after it, what with it now hardly being 7 in the morning.”

Harry grinned.

“Why don’t you shower up and we can meet in the Great Hall for breakfast? After that I could help you tend to your classroom. Mine’s been set up since I left last year, besides Hagrid delivering some magical creatures my third and fourth years will be taking a look at this week.”

Draco scowled again. It’s almost as if Harry **_wanted_** to hang out with him. 

“Very well, Harry _._ I’ll see you in an hour.” Harry laughed.

“An hour? I suppose you must still have an extensive morning routine, hm?”

At that, Draco shut the door in Harry’s face. 

_No need to deal with that today._


	6. The Breakfast Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Harry have a meaningful conversation over breakfast.

Draco made his way to breakfast exactly an hour later, finding a showered Harry waiting for him outside of the dungeons.

Draco smiled slightly at the man, getting his stride to match Harry’s as they walked towards the Great Hall.

“Waiting for me, Harry?” Draco gave Harry an inquisitive look.

Harry smiled and nodded.

“I don’t take so long to get ready, so I had some time to let my hair dry.”

He waved his hand like he was flicking his hair over his shoulder, forcing a chuckle to pass through Draco’s lips.

They walked to the Great Hall, chatting meaninglessly about the jog.

Draco sat in his usual spot at the end of the table, talking amicably with Harry when Dennis Creevey walked up looking sour-faced.

“Harry. Come sit with me and Neville.”

Harry, who was in the middle of talking, turned towards the Muggle Studies professor.

“I’m in the middle of a conversation, Dennis. I’ll sit here, thanks.”

Draco noticed that Creevey wouldn’t look at him. His eyes were only focused on Harry.

“Not a very important conversation. Come sit with us.”

Harry’s eyes darkened.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Creevey. I’m sitting here. You can either join me or go away.”

Creevey scoffed, flushing red from embarrassment, and turned to go sit with Neville.

Harry turned back towards Draco, looking meek.

“Sorry about that, Draco. He still holds a lot of grudges over the death of his brother.”

Draco looked confused.

“He is aware I hardly fought in the battle, right? I spent most of my time being rescued by you.”

Harry blushed.

“He, um… doesn’t really care about who fought or not. Sorry.”

Draco waved a dismissive hand.

“It’s no concern of mine what grudges people hold from the war, Harry. I learned that lesson a long time ago.”

He brushes a hand against a rib that still sometimes ached. 

Harry looked confused. He pointed out Draco’s hand.

“Did something happen?”

Draco’s cheeks tinged with red.

“You know. Or, I suppose you wouldn’t. Post-war aggression taken out on ‘Death Eater scum’. I was laid up in St. Mungo’s for a week recovering.”

Harry looked stricken. 

“Wait - you mean, you were attacked?”

Draco nodded.

“Yes. Steel-toed boots.”

Harry put a hand on Draco’s shoulder.

“I’m… really sorry about that. I didn’t fight this war to lead to that kind of treatment, especially not for you and Narcissa.”

Draco thought that was really kind of Harry. 

“I always wondered about that, Harry. Why did you speak in our favor after the war?”

Harry blushed again. Blushing seems to be a recurring theme for their conversations.

“You know why, Draco. Without your actions at the Manor and Narcissa’s in the forest, I wouldn’t have won the war. And I know that neither of you participated in the war because you truly believed in Riddle’s cause.”

Draco looked down at his plate, playing with his food, looking bashful.

“I never did thank you properly for that. Thank you, Harry.”

Harry beamed at Draco, about to accept the thanks when Minerva stood up.


End file.
